


I Swear It

by rileywrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Melissa has nightmares, Mentions of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9911948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileywrites/pseuds/rileywrites
Summary: There has been an attempt on the Dowager Queen's life, and King Scott assigns Sir Hale to head her new protection detail. As the weeks pass, Derek and Melissa can't help but become closer. Then, the accomplice tries to finish the job.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpookyBibi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyBibi/gifts).



> A kingdom of nebulous size and indeterminate location. Vaguely Tudor. Not remotely historically accurate.

Scott sends for Derek after dinner one night in early May, calling him to his study to discuss something. His page doesn't say what he wants, so Derek is in the dark as he bows before his king, the man seated at his imposing desk.

"Rise, Hale. I'm sure you've heard of the latest traitor we had to deal with lately." Scott slides a thick folder of paperwork to him. "We do not enjoy executions, but his action was unforgivable."

The king is tense, speaking uncharacteristically with the royal We.

"Threatening your mother-- I mean, her highness, the dowager queen." Derek leafs through the paperwork, reports from guards mixed with rambling testimony. "Her guards caught him trying to scale the building."

"Yes, that was three weeks ago." Scott sets down his pen and steeples his hands. "His last words are what concern us now. 'I wasn't alone,' he said. 'The queen mother will die.'"

Derek can see the concern etched in his young king's face, and he wishes to banish it along with the traitor's soul.

"Her staff of guards is second in skill only to yours, sire. Argent makes sure of that, I know." The captain of the guard has a soft spot for the dowager Queen, and his men are the best in the four kingdoms. "She couldn't be in better hands."

"She could, and that's why you're here. We want one of our Knights to be near her at all times, and you were our first choice. She agrees." Scott sits up straighter, and Derek is very aware of the power behind the simple coronet Scott favors. The band of gold is slim, but his strength and determination is not. "You pick one of your men, one not tied to a wife and a home if possible, and you will take over as our mother's chief guard."

"Yes, your grace. It will be my honor to protect the Dowager Queen." Derek bows, folder of paperwork pressed to his chest. "No harm shall come to her while she is in my care, or that of my men, my lord. That I swear."

"Good. Do you know who you would trust as your second?"

"Sir Lahey, my lord. He is young, but he is fierce. While he is betrothed to the daughter of the Duke of Airendale, Lady Braeden, they are not to be wed for two more years." Derek nods firmly. "Sir Lahey, and Sir Boyd as insurance. Lady Boyd will not mind, I am sure of it."

The king considers it for a long moment, finally nodding.

"Let it be so arranged. You report to our mother's chambers in the morning. She and her staff will decide how they want to proceed." Scott nods once, firmly. "Thank you, Hale. You are dismissed."

...

The queen's fiercest and most valued lady in waiting, the incomparable Lady of Honor, is at the door when Derek approaches, eyes practically glowing in irritation. Her royal favor is pinned on crooked, betraying a haste indicative of worry.

"Lady Tate." Derek dips a bow. "Good morning."

"Sir Hale." She bows in return, much to Derek's amusement. "I've had better, I will say. Come, her majesty is waiting for you." Lady Tate sweeps into the Queen Mother's presence chamber, clearly expecting him to follow. 

"How is the young Lord Stilinski?" Derek asks quietly, hoping to soften Lady Tate's gaze. "I hear the estate is doing well."

Sure enough, the stone façade of Lady Tates' frown melts. "It is. We have plans to wed in the fall, once the harvest is in. His father and the Queen approve of it, so it will be. Of course, he will move to court, as I cannot leave my lady."

"Of course." Derek smiles. "You have my good wishes, miss."

"Thank you, Sir Hale. Now, come along."

The Queen Mother is sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the fire, the crown prince Christian and his sister playing at her feet. Princess Katherine is a tiny sprite of a girl,  pouring tea for her dolls and forcing her brother to play along.

The gentle smile the Queen Mother saves for her grandchildren disappears once Lady Tate has announced Derek's arrival.

"Sir Hale, please, join me." She gestures to the opposite chair. Derek bows deeply before he dares sit. "Children, go with Tara for now. We shall continue to play later."

The nurse escorts the children out of the Queen Mother's chambers, leaving her, Derek, two guards, and a half-dozen ladies maids. With a simple glance, the women move from around the Queen Mother to the opposite side of the large room, settling on sofas and settees to continue their handiwork around the smaller fireplace.

"I don't wish to worry them," the Queen Mother explains. "They are already so high strung after the last attacker was caught."

"I understand, your grace. I will do everything in my power to maintain an atmosphere of calm within your ladies."

Her tight smile loosens around the edges. "I'm sure you will. My son explained the plan to you, I assume?"

"I am to assume the leadership of your guard, and my men Sir Lahey and Sir Boyd will assist me in ensuring your safety."

"Precisely." She purses her lips, directs her gaze to her needlework. "Outside of my rooms, there is an office prepared for you and your men. The ladies share rooms in the wing surrounding my chambers, but I intend to move you and your men into the old valet's room here, off of the parlor."

She gestures to a panel of the wall that, upon further inspection, conceals a door to another room.

"No one has used it in ages, but I had the maids clean it out and prepare it for you." She sighs, and for a moment all forty of her years hang heavily on her brow. "I want you close. It is hard for me to sleep since… I want you close at hand."

"As you wish, your grace." Derek pauses. "I intend to vet all of your guards. I know Captain Argent has high standards, but mine in this instamce are of necessity higher. With them and my men, we will plan out a proper rotation to ensure your highness' safety at every moment."

Softer, quieter, "you are safe with me, ma'am. I swear it."

The Queen Mother reaches over and takes his hand, startling him at the mild impropriety. He can't help but glance over at the circle of women across the room to see if any of them see it.

"My son trusts you, so I trust you. Thank you for giving up your time training to care for me, Sir Hale."

"It is an honor, your grace."

…

Derek, Isaac, and Boyd take their place in the valet's room within the hour, and the Queen Mother adds Lady Erica to her retinue by tea. Derek is happy that Erica will be among the ladies in waiting.

"Having her among your ladies will be like having a very lovely addition to your guard," Derek explains quietly over tea. "Her father trained her in the ways of war, and she wields a knife better than half my best men. Barring my sister, Lady Boyd is the most trustworthy woman I know."

"She also has a sharp wit and a sharper tongue," the Queen Mother adds. "She will stir up the placid ones, and she is a welcome addition to our little world despite the circumstances."

After tea, Derek has a meeting with the steward of Queen Melissa's household, a pleasantly odd man by the name of Deaton.

"Adding an additional lady, along with you and your men, will mean an increase in the cost of running this household," Deaton says. "His majesty the king has given me additional funds, but the Lady Erica was not expected."

"Take her allowance from my pay," Derek offers. "I am a simple man. I do not require much."

Deaton clucks his tongue. "Sir Hale, you are at court full-time now. You require better clothing at the very least."

"I can ask his majesty for further funds for her grace's protection. It will allow you to do what you must, and give me the leeway to do what I must."

Deaton considers it for a long moment, finally agreeing to the plan.

"The ladies dine with the court most nights, but her grace does not like to dine in public that often. You will be expected to eat with her, so I will adjust the food budget accordingly. Please meet with the tailor sometime in the next week, so you may be properly outfitted."

Deaton leaves, and Derek thanks the Lord that it wasn't more difficult than that.

…

The next two weeks are spent vetting guards, attending miserable fittings, and tightening security around the Queen Mother's chambers. Derek replaces two men he finds less than competent, convincing Argent of their unfitness for duty. The men he replaces them with are young, sharp, and willing to do anything for the Queen Mother.

"Dunbar, Hewitt. You two will take the second guard in the presence chamber, while Oliver and Hayes take the doors. Tyhurst and Kincaid will relieve you for third watch."

The men both bow, stepping quickly into their places by the doors to the Queen Mother's privy chamber.

Lady Tate materializes at Derek's elbow. "Her majesty requests your presence, Sir Hale."

"Boyd, you're in charge," Derek says, and Boyd snaps to attention. "Send one of the ladies should anything change."

"Yessir."

There's a murmur of interest from the sewing circle, but Derek ignores it as he follows Lady Tate into the privy chamber. The inner parlor is warm and welcoming, homey in a way the presence chamber could never be. It's here that Derek can see the Queen Mother's sense of style, her personality.

Her majesty and Lady Boyd are sitting in front of the fire, mouths moving as fast as their knitting needles. Derek bows the moment he's in her line of sight, and the Queen Mother waves for him to rise.

"Sir Hale, please sit. Lady Erica has something of interest that I need you to hear."

Derek joins Lady Erica on the sofa, posture impeccable so as to avoid disturbing her voluminous skirts. Lady Tate retakes her seat in the armchair nearest her majesty.

"Based on my time with the ladies, I believe we have reason for concern with Lady Argent," Erica says quickly, her speed in knitting increasing with her irritation. "I know she is the Queen's aunt and sister to the captain of the guard, but I don't trust her. She takes too much after her father."

The Queen Mother sighs. "I gave Kate a place in my household after her husband died, and it made Allison and Captain Argent so happy to have her here. I agree, however, that she doesn't quite fit the group."

"Lady Tate isn't fond of her," Derek says, thinking of his observations so far. "In fact, the only lady who is fond of her is Lady Violet."

"She is a conniving, ambitious wretch," Lady Tate spits out, hackles rising. "Of course I'm not fond of her."

"It isn't just her demeanor," Erica continues, ignoring the outburst. "I've overheard her joking about treasonous things, and I don't think all of it was truly in jest." 

Derek can feel his frown deepen. "Does she share rooms with Lady Violet?"

"Yes. The two of them are thick as thieves." Erica takes his hand. "Derek, you know my intuition has yet to be false about such matters. You need to keep both eyes on this woman."

"I will. I promise."

The Queen Mother is lost in thought, needles clacking as her fingers fly. Finally, she says, "I don't want to remove her from court. A woman like that must be kept where we can see her. I do want her removed from my household, however. She and Lady Violet are dismissed. Malia, change their maid to one of your and Erica's choosing, one we can trust. I don't trust them, but I must keep an eye on them."

"Yes, your grace." Lady Tate bows from her chair, a quirk that Derek finds endearing. "Shall I offer an explanation?"

"No. No, just dismiss them. We'll discuss why another time."

"Yes, ma'am." Lady Tate stands, bows once more and turns to leave, petticoats swishing.

Derek watches the women carefully, alert in case of a breakdown of some sort.

"I will make sure the King is aware of this," he says softly. "And I will take some time to review your ladies in waiting, your grace."

"Let it be done," the Queen Mother says, sounding so much like her son it's no question who he takes after. "I only wish to be safe."

"And you will be. I swear it."

Every time he promises her safety, he hopes to heaven to be able to deliver.

…

In early June, Sir Isaac injures his ankle during a training exercise. Most of Derek's men are taken with work at home, so he simply takes Isaac's shifts as well as his own while Isaac heals.

It's late, and Derek is reading by the fire in the presence chamber when Lady Tate comes tearing in from the Queen Mother's privy chamber. Her hair is down, a large robe tied tightly around her, feet bare. Derek averts his eyes.

"You! You, come quickly. She's having a nightmare. Erica and I cannot wake her. You must try and calm her, Sir Hale. Come, quickly."

Lady Tate is not a woman prone to exaggeration, so Derek knows she's only coming for him because she must. Derek follows her as ordered, aware of the guard's eyes on his back. Lady Tate goes straight through the privy chamber to the doors to the bedchamber within.

"She has been stricken with these terrors since the attack, but this is the worst so far. She trusts you, you make her feel safe, so _fix this._ "

Lady Tate shoves him toward the large bed in the center of the room, the bed-curtains flung open. Erica is pacing at the foot of the bed, wringing her hands. A piercing scream emanates from within, and Derek rushes to the bedside. The queen mother writhes, dark hair tangled around her face, skin white as the sheets. She flings a hand out, and Derek takes it without thinking.

"Your majesty, you are safe," he says firmly. He kneels by the bedside, still holding her hand. "I am here, and your ladies are here, and you are safe, I swear it."

Ignoring propriety in the hopes of comforting the miserable queen, Derek clutches her shoulder and shakes her gently.

"You are safe," he says louder. "You are safe, you are safe, I swear it."

She startles awake with a strangled gasp, sitting up and throwing her arms around Derek as she sobs. Melissa (and she is Melissa in this moment, not the Queen Mother, not the Dowager Queen, Melissa) clings to him, tears drenching his shirt. Derek wraps his arms around her, focused only on her wellbeing in this moment.

"You're safe," he whispers, over and over again. "You're safe."

She's worryingly thin, clothed only in a shift and a nightgown instead of the many layers of armor women call clothing. He can feel her ribs, her backbone, and he makes a mental note to discuss the contents and regularity of her meals with the kitchen. Derek cradles her close until the sobbing ebbs, until she is able to take deep breaths once more. The moment her grip on him loosens, he releases her.

"I am so sorry," she says, wiping frantically at her face.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-- I shouldn't-- you didn't have to--"

Lady Tate brings over a damp cloth and carefully bathes Melissa's reddened cheeks and eyes.

"Don't apologize, your majesty. You cannot control the nightmares, and it is my job to keep you safe. Even if the threat is the darkness in your mind, I swore to protect you." Derek sits back on his heels to give Lady Tate more room. "I keep my promises, ma'am."

"You darling man," Melissa-- the Queen Mother says. "I see now why my son chose you. Thank you, for protecting me from myself."

"Always, ma'am. I am but your servant."

She waves Lady Tate away and leans to cup Derek's face in her hands. She bestows a single kiss to his forehead.

"I will repay your kindness," she promises softly. Then, with a smile, "I swear it."

"No repayment is needed, your grace." Derek keeps his eyes down toward the floor, away from the Queen Mother's face or, god forbid, her body. "It is my duty and my honor."

The Queen Mother releases him with a sigh. "You are dismissed, Sir Hale. Return to your book or your writing, and I will try to return to sleep."

Derek stands, bows, and heads for the door. Lady Tate follows him out into the privy chamber.

"Erica and I will spend the night with her," she explains quietly. "We've been taking turns in a kind of private watch, but tonight she needs both of us." Malia squeezes his hand. "Thank you… Derek."

"You're welcome." Derek smiles. "Malia."

…

The next few nights follow the same pattern, until Derek finally takes to sleeping on a sofa in the privy chamber mere steps from the bedroom door. He can hear the sounds of the nightmares from there, allowing Erica and Malia to stay at the Queen Mother's side.

The ladies whisper about it, and Derek is sure the court at large has plenty of opinions about one of the King's knights spending so much time with the Queen Mother in her bedchamber, but he doesn't care. He will spend every night at her side if he must, to keep away intruders from outside her room or from inside her head.

Whatever it takes to keep Melissa safe, even if it means hurting himself in the process.

(When they are required to part, his heart will rend and mend once more. He's survived worse. But he could never forgive himself if something happened to her.)

"You must sleep," Derek says one night. "This constant fright is not good for you. You hardly eat."

In the darkness, it is easy to pretend that she's just a friend, a lover, a woman he is fond of, instead of his monarch. She convinced him to lay down tonight, his boots at the side of her bed and her head on his shoulder.

"I worry about you," he continues. Malia and Erica are asleep on the trundle they share, worn-out from constant watch. They curl together like puppies in their sleep, and if he listens, he can hear their soft snores. "You cannot waste away, I won't allow it."

Melissa chuckles softly, playing idly with the tie of his shirt. "I cannot eat, Derek. Food makes me ill. I cannot sleep. Dreams make me ill."

"The apothecary must have some sort of draught to help keep the dreams at bay. Something that would allow you to rest." What was it Laura took after the fire? Something with valerian, maybe. "Surely there's something."

"I hate the way they make me feel." Melissa shakes her head. "No, Derek. I won't be able to rest until the accomplices are caught and punished. I cannot sleep with the possibility hanging over my head."

"We will find them," Derek whispers. "The king has the best in the kingdom on the case, and in the meantime, you have myself and my men to ensure your safety."

"You were the right choice," Melissa murmurs, eyelids drooping closed. "I'm glad Scott sent you to me, even if it means you must abandon your usual duties. I'm glad…"

She yawns, tension loosening from her shoulders.

"I'm glad you are here." Her breath evens, and her hand goes slack where it rests on his chest.

His queen sleeps.

His queen sleeps, and Derek keeps watch.

…

July begins bright and new, and Derek has spent more nights in the queen's bed than out of it. She's been sleeping better, for she doesn't dream when he's there. Malia and Erica have begun taking turns again, sharing the watch and the rest in equal parts.

There is definite discussion amongst the greater court about the way Derek and the Queen Mother interact, about the rumor of him sharing her bed, but he doesn't discuss anything with anyone. Only Malia, Isaac, and the Boyds have any idea of the happenings within the privy chamber.

"Malia, have Emily fetch me more wool, and send Sir Lahey for my son. I request an audience with my king." The Queen Mother tucks her knitting away carefully. "I require an update on the situation, and I do not intend to wait long. He will move with more purpose if he sees Isaac waiting for him instead of one of my maids."

Lady Tate smirks. "Yes ma'am. I will do so."

She bows and moves quickly out to the presence chamber.

Derek always marvels at the careful balance Malia must keep between friend and servant. The lady of honor position is a precarious one, even for so fair a monarch as Queen Melissa.

"He was in conference with the Duke of Hamentia last I heard," Derek offers. "I'm sure he'll appreciate the excuse for a break."

Melissa smiles. "I know. It's part of why I'm insisting. He needs to remind people where his loyalties lie."

"With you and with his queen, of course."

"Of course." Melissa purses her lips. "We will be eating at court tonight, so be sure to dress accordingly. The green thing that Morrell threw together for you, perhaps."

He's fond of the green thing himself, though less fond of eating at court. It's one of the nicer outfits he's received as part of Melissa's household, and the waistcoat is embroidered with her crest. He feels proud wearing her colors, like... like she's claiming him. Wearing the green thing to court tonight will say, in front of God and country, that Derek is an important part of the Queen Mother's household.

"Yes, your grace."

"You'll be seated next to Jennifer, Duchess of Alion. She recently married the Duke, and she doesn't know a soul at court." The Queen Mother purses her lips. "She's a greedy, immoral, adulterous shrew, which is why I want you to keep an eye on her."

Derek stifles a sigh. "Yes, your grace."

He's met the duchess before. Admittedly, at the time she was still just Jennifer Blake, and she had yet to pick up the titles of her last two husbands. She flirted shamelessly with him until she realized that Laura was the intended heir of Hale Manor and the surrounding lands, not Derek.

Women like her are one of the reasons he abhors being at the general court. Men like her husband are the other.

"I see you've met the woman." Meli-- the Queen Mother smirks. "It's just for this evening, and then we'll be back to private dinners in my chambers with our friends."

"I can survive one night at court," Derek says without thinking. "I just prefer evenings at home."

She stops knitting and sets her needles down.

"You consider my household home?" Her voice is neutral, unreadable, carefully benign.

For the first time in his life, Derek does not answer a direct question from a monarch. His stomach turns at the disrespect of his inaction mingled with the fear of being removed from his duty at her side.

"Derek." The Queen Mother stands, and Derek ducks his head further. The rug is quite fascinating, of Turkish origin and wondrously patterned. "Derek, look at me."

He looks up to find her mere feet away from him. She cups his face in her hand, surprisingly strong fingers gripping his chin.

"Do you consider my household home, Derek?" It's firmer this time, her fingers pressing harder into his face, but her eyes are kind.

Derek swallows thickly and nods, doing his best not to lean into her touch. Is this where he's dismissed for impropriety?

The Queen Mother smiles, and it's like the sunrise in its brilliance.

"I'm glad. I had hoped you felt comfortable, that you felt welcome."

"I do, your grace." Why is his voice so rough? "I truly appreciate your hospitality and warmth despite the unpleasant circumstances. I swear it."

"Good." The Queen Mother releases him and returns to her chair. "It's nearly time for afternoon training , so you are dismissed. Don't forget to dress for dinner."

Derek stands, bows, and walks as quickly as he can without breaking into a run. His stomach is twisting with swallowed emotion, a tiny piece of him daring to imagine that she fancies him in return.

...

The Queen Mother is angrier than Derek has ever seen her. The maids scatter like mice as she storms into the privy chamber, heels clacking angrily on the stone.

"That, that _bitch_. How dare she say that? How dare she act like that in front of her King, in front of _me_?!" Melissa starts to pace, and Derek just waits it out. "I know there are rumors, of course there are, but to say something about it at dinner like that with everyone listening?"

Jennifer Blake will not be returning to court, not after she and Kate got into a lively discussion about how exactly Derek might be satisfying the Queen Mother. Jennifer implied that she and Derek had known each other biblically, and Derek watched as the Queen Mother bent a spoon in her attempt to keep calm.

"And to drag your honor into it? I know you hate that woman, that you wouldn't have-- you haven't--"

"Like I told the rest, the only way I know Jennifer Blake is from her flirtation back at Hale Manor, which came to nothing. Please, your grace, must you pace this way? You're going to overtire yourself in that corset."

"I cannot stand still, not after keeping calm all of dinner. I loathed seeing you next to that shrew, and to think that the stewards seated Kate across the table, when her rank is so much lower than yours." The Queen Mother is pacing faster. "The nerve of them. I hate court, I hate it."

"I know, your grace. And, having done your duty, you have no need to return before your son's birthday in September. Almost two whole months until you have to go to court again." Derek holds out a hand as she passes him again. "Come, let me call your maids to help you change. That outfit cannot be comfortable."

Melissa takes his hand and takes a deep breath. "You are right. I will change, and then I will be angry without being frantic. Go, call the maids. I will have one of them send for you when I am dressed for bed."

Boyd and Erica are curled up in bed when Derek slips into the bedroom, murmuring amongst themselves as Erica relates just exactly what a shitshow dinner was.

Derek doesn't bother with propriety, stripping out of his uncomfortable outfit and changing into the soft trousers he favors for sleeping and a clean shirt.

(The one benefit of living in the castle is the laundry service. He's never been so consistently clean in his life, not since becoming a page when he was small.)

"So… dinner was a shitshow." Erica isn't looking at him, and Derek appreciates it. "How is she handling it?"

"She's angry, angrier than I've ever seen her. She was fairly fine earlier, before Jennifer insinuated that we had relations." Derek runs a comb through his hair and washes his face in the washstand. "After that… Boyd, she bent a spoon instead of punching Jennifer Blake in the face."

"Jennifer Blake will not be coming back to court," Erica adds. "I heard his majesty the King discussing it. She and her husband are no longer welcome. They're lucky they escaped with their lives, let alone their titles."

"She should have just punched the both of them." Boyd shakes his head. "I hate the machinations of court. I much prefer it in here with you."

"Me too." Erica kisses him, and Derek averts his eyes. "Isaac is taking the evening watch, so you can rest tonight, Derek."

When did his team start making decisions without him? Then again, Erica is just as capable of running a guard patrol as any of the others.

"I never truly rest, not with the possibility that someone will come to hurt the Queen Mother. But I will try."

One of the maids, a sprite of a girl named Heather, appears in their doorway. "Her grace requests your presence, Sir Hale."

"Thank you, Heather. I'll be right there." Derek takes a deep breath and prepares himself for the oncoming storm.

…

Melissa is pacing again when Derek is summoned to her bedroom, wringing her hands. Derek finds her workbasket and gently guides her to the chair by the fire.

"Don't wring your hands like that, your grace. If you must fidget, do so in a way that won't rub your hands raw."

"I'll agree to stress-knit if you agree to pour me a glass of brandy," Melissa says, pointing at him with her needles.

Derek smiles. "Yes, your grace."

He pours her double what she usually requests, if only to keep from pouring her another later. Melissa takes it and drinks half in one go.

"I don't trust them," she says finally. "I want a proper guard on Kate, someone unobtrusive but trustworthy."

"I can reassign Hewitt or Dunbar," Derek offers. "Both are extremely loyal, and I trust them."

Melissa shakes her head. "I like them too much to send them on such a miserable mission. Besides, everyone knows they are on my rotation. It would be too obvious. Think it over, and tell me in the morning."

"Yes, your grace."

They sit in silence for a long stretch of time, the only sounds the clack of Melissa's needles and the wind outside. Derek settles into an exhausted trance, half-sleeping where he sits.

"You really consider my household home?" Melissa asks, sudden and urgent.

"Of course I do," Derek says, guard down with his exhaustion. "Why wouldn't I? I spend time with my closest friends, there isn't the pressure of being at court or back at the Manor, and... and you're here. You make these rooms home."

"You darling man." Melissa sets down her knitting and rises, crossing the few feet between them. She sits beside him on the sofa, angled such that her knees press into his thigh.

Derek is suddenly very aware that they're both in their nightclothes. He's spent every night in her bed for weeks now, but this feels like the most intimate they've ever been.

Her hands are folded in her lap, dainty and soft, belying their true strength.

He looks at his hands, at the calluses from training, the tan skin from spending so much time outdoors. He has no title, no land of his own. What is he doing here?

"Derek, I can hear you thinking." Melissa frowns, and Derek resists the urge to chase the wrinkles in her forehead away with his thumb. "Have I crossed a line? I do not wish to make you uncomfortable."

Before his brain can catch up, Derek says, "your grace, I do not know that there is a line with regard to you. That is the problem."

Melissa slides closer.

"Derek, do you... desire me? Have you feelings for me?"

Derek closes his eyes and nods. Suddenly, he feels her lips on his, the warm press of her body against his, her hand a fist in his shirt. He kisses back on instinct, brain gone blank in his overwhelm.

Her waist is thin under his hands, Derek moving as if a man possessed. Melissa breaks the kiss.

"Derek, darling, open your eyes."

He shakes his head. "I do not wish to wake up."

"This isn't a dream. I swear it." Melissa pinches his side, and when he opens his eyes, she's still there. "Come, darling, let's to bed."

They go through the evening routine quickly, already accustomed to this part of the evening. Not for the first time, Derek considers how the same routine would happen if he was her husband. She'd never ask for his hand, but a man can dream.

"Listening to that awful Jennifer Blake claim you had been hers made me realize just how much I cared for you," Melissa says quietly. "I know you must have been with women before, especially having reached twenty-four unwed. But the idea of her claws in you angered me more than I expected."

"She and I have never been together," Derek says quietly. "She repulsed me then and continues to now."

He cannot say there have not been others-- male and female, if he's being honest. However, he can swear that he's never touched Jennifer Blake.

"I shouldn't be so reassured, but I am."

They're in her bed, the curtains closed and blocking out the rest of the world. They haven't kissed again, and Derek appreciates the time to process.

"I don't want you to feel pressured because of status," she continues, playing with the tie of his shirt. "I want you to want me for me."

"I do," Derek whispers. "I swear it."

…

July passes in a whirl of training and preparation for the court's next move. Derek swaps out all but two of the guards for fresh ones, and the Whittemores join them at court. 

"Lord Whittemore, it is good to see you." They share a brotherly embrace, and Derek keeps hold of his arms to inspect him. "You kept up with your training over the summer, I see."

"Lady Whittemore would not have it any other way. She appreciates the invitation to court, by the way. She's in talks about joining the queen's household. Apparently Queen Allison knows her from their time in France or something."

"I'm sure I'll see her eventually, then." Derek nods toward the office near the Queen Mother's chambers. "Come, I need your keen eye on the plans for the move. When court moves to Beacon Castle in two weeks, we'll need to be ready to keep the Queen Mother safe."

"Lead the way, sir. I'm happy to assist in any way possible."

They talk for two solid hours, pausing only when a page brings in tea and some food. Jackson sees potential weakness where Derek has missed it, filling in gaps.

"You're sure this building plan is up to date?" Jackson gestures with a cookie. "I'd have someone ride out early to verify that we know all the entrances to the Queen Mother's wing of the house."

Derek sighs. The Queen Mother's quarters at Beacon Castle just aren't as defensible as the ones at Nemeton Hall, and he's been poring over the plans for weeks now.

"I plan on sending Sir and Lady Boyd out with the servants ahead of time to open up the castle. They will be able to survey the area. Argent is going to go with them, then return to accompany the King on the journey."

"Good. These plans seem solid, but you can never be too sure." Jackson sets the papers down and sits back in his chair. "Now, about the gossip surrounding you and the Dowager Queen..."

Jackson raises an eyebrow and waits expectantly. Derek takes a moment to remind himself that the man's blunt demeanor is part of why Derek values him so highly.

"I don't even know what's happening with me and the Dowager Queen," he admits. "I spend most nights in her bed, warding off nightmares. We have both admitted some sort of feelings for the other. She kissed me once, several weeks ago. It has not progressed from there."

He scrubs a hand over his beard with a sigh.

"I would die for her if I had to, and it's not just because she's the mother of my monarch. She is giving me time, I think. To decide if I want to go further."

"Do you?"

Derek doesn't answer, and Jackson sits back in his chair with a nod.

"If she wants you, take the risk. I want to see you happy, Derek. You deserve happiness."

...

"Sir Derek, Sir Derek!"

Princess Katherine and Prince Christian clamor for him when he arrives at the presence chamber after a day of meetings and training.

"Lady Erica says there's a new knight come to help protect Grandmother," Katie says, holding her arms up until he picks her up and settles her on his hip. "Why does Grandmother need so many Knights? Father doesn't have so many, and he's King."

"Yes, your highness, but a bad man threatened your grandmother. It is our job to make sure any of his friends cannot reach her." Derek carries her to the others, Christian bouncing behind them.

"Sir Derek, will you teach me how to fight? Father gave me a wooden sword and shield from when he was my size, so I can practice!" Christian tugs at the edge of his mail shirt. "Can I have one of these? I want to be a knight, too!"

"I'll talk to your father, then we can see if you can be fitted for a mail shirt. You still have a way to grow, so he may want you to wait." Derek scoops the boy up with his free hand and settles him opposite his sister. "I'd be happy to help you start training. You can join the pages when we arrive at Beacon Castle, if your father agrees."

"Thank you! Oh, I'm sure he'll agree. He knows how much I want it." Christian hugs Derek's neck, almost punching his sister in the process.

"My Derek!" Katie pushes his arms away from her. "My Derek, Christian."

"You can share me," Derek offers. "Besides, I'm technically your father's."

He stops in front of the Queen Mother and bows, the children giggling as he jostles them.

"Children, please leave Sir Derek alone. He has work to do, and you two need to go get ready for dinner."

"Can't we have dinner here, Grandmother?" Katie pouts. "Please? I want to meet the new knight, and Sir Derek owes me a tea party."

"You will meet him soon enough, and I promise there will be a tea party another day."

Derek sets the children down, and Tara escorts them out of the chamber. He bows to the Queen Mother once more.

"I intend to clean up before dinner, your grace. Do you need me right this moment, or do I have some time?"

Melissa lowers her knitting for a moment, careful not to lose a single tiny stitch in the miniscule socks.

"You have as much time as you need. I can have them hold dinner if you need to rest. I know the plans for the move are extensive and exhausting. The ladies are eating at court tonight, so it will be just the two of us."

Derek doesn't think of the implications of her final sentence. "It will not take long for me to clean up."

"Go ahead, and you can meet me in the privy chamber. I'll call for dinner soon." Melissa smiles softly. "The ladies will be gone to dinner by then."

"Yes, your grace."

...

Dinner is a quiet affair, comfortable and homey. The food is simple compared to the usual court fair, and he couldn't ask for better company.

A servant comes in to clear the dishes, and Melissa pours them both another glass of wine. Once the servant is gone, she takes a deep breath.

"Derek, I meant to wait to say this but I cannot. Have you considered… have you considered the possibility of a relationship with me?" Melissa fidgets with her ring, her glass, the long sleeves of her dress. "I know I was the one to initiate that kiss, and I know you are a man of honor, and I meant to wait until you brought it up--"

"Please, there is no need to explain." Derek hasn’t seen her this wound up in weeks. "I've been considering it, in what little free time I have. I… I care for you, deeply. As more than my monarch, as more than the woman I'm sworn to protect. "

Melissa stops fidgeting, holding so still Derek is afraid she's forgotten to breathe.

"I told you that I desire you. I meant it then, and I mean it now."

He finds himself with a lapful of Melissa and skirts, her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. He wraps his arms around her in return, holding her close.

"I wish for us to be together," Melissa whispers. "I wish to have you for my lover. Will you have me?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." Derek guides her into a gentle kiss. "Of course."

They kiss lazily for long moments, until someone cries out in the presence chamber. Derek holds Melissa close so he can stand without knocking her to the ground and turns to face the door with her at his back.

"Your Grace, I want you to pull the armchair back so that you can stand behind it near the wall, understood?"

Melissa nods, darting back to conceal herself behind the large chair. She tucks her skirts in to keep from being immediately noticed. Derek retrieves his sword from its place on the mantle and moves slowly toward the door.

Another shout, followed by a feminine shriek that is quickly silenced. Derek turns to face the west wall as a narrow door in the wall opens, and one of the chambermaids creeps in.

"It's one of Kate's men," the girl whispers harshly. "I've sent for help, but she drugged the outer guards, and he's just injured another. I think Anna may be dead, and everyone else is still at dinner."

Derek forces himself to focus. He will fight if he must, but he'd rather get Melissa out of danger first. He bolts the door between the presence and the privy chambers.

"Heather, check the bedroom to make sure the windows have held."

"Yes sir." She pops back into the tunnels and promptly pokes her head back through the bedroom doors. "There's no one in here, and the grates over the windows are solid." 

"Bar the servant's entrance to the bedroom," Derek commands. He hustles Melissa into the bedroom, hands her one of his knives, and kisses her forehead. "You're safe, I promise."

Heather blocks the servant's door and picks up the poker from the fireplace.

"I can help. I can protect her in here, so you can go out there and handle it." Heather hesitates a second before she squeezes Derek's arm. "Go protect her."

"I will. Bolt the door behind me, and don't open it until you hear from me or one of my men, understood?"

"Yes sir." Heather bobs a curtsey.

"I don't care if something happens, do _not_ open the door until you are officially cleared." Derek aims that at Melissa. "Don’t come after me."

"I won't," Melissa promises. "I'll wait here, I swear it."

Derek waits for the women to bolt the bedroom door, unsheathes his sword, and opens the door to the presence chamber.

…

Derek has a split second to take in the room, Cyrus' weak grip on Anna's abdomen to try and stop the blood on his left, a shattered chair on his right, and in front of him--

"Harris."

The first blow is obvious before Harris even raises his weapon, and Derek blocks it with ease.

The clang echoes through the room. Harris attempts another offensive. Again, Derek blocks the attack, but he isn't fast enough to get the next one.

The air in his lungs abandons him, and Derek is forced to fight with instinct while his brain sounds the alarm on his bruised ribs. Derek has never been more glad about not changing for dinner. Without his mail, he'd be down and out.

The room fills with the sound of metal on metal as Derek forces Harris further and further from the door to the privy chamber. Each strike brings Derek closer to victory, until--

Derek barely ducks Harris' wild thrust. Searing pain shoots through his face as blood pours down his cheek and neck. Facial wounds bleed like hell, and Derek's already starting to fade.

"I'm going to fucking kill her," Harris yells. Crazed eyes dart from Derek to the door. "I'm going to kill her, and you can't do a goddamn thing to stop me!"

Rage overtakes pain, and by the time Derek realizes what he's doing he has Harris pinned to the floor with his blade at his neck.

"You're never laying a fucking finger on her," Derek growls. "Never. Don’t fucking move."

Harris can't move, can barely breathe without threat of slicing his throat on Derek's sword.

Derek kneels on Harris' chest and pulls off his belt to secure Harris' wrists to one another. He spots the dining table with its wide oak legs and marble top, the most solid piece of furniture in the room.

It will do.

"You're lucky you aren't dead," Derek hisses, tying the weasel of a man to the leg of the table. "I need you to pin Kate down, or else you would be."

Harris is pale, both from loss of blood and loss of confidence.

"If I tell you everything, will you keep me alive? Will I avoid beheading?"

Derek stands and wipes his face on his sleeve. "No fucking promises."

…

Derek's hands are covered in blood, from himself, Cyrus, and the maid lying half-dead on the floor. For now, Derek is just trying to keep Anna awake and alive.

"Stay with me, okay? You're going to be okay."

Several members of the guard come bursting in, Chris Argent and the King at their heels.

"My mother?"

Derek nods toward the door. "The bedroom. Beware, both the dowager Queen and Heather are armed, and they will hurt you if you try and break in without warning."

One of the guards takes over in keeping Anna awake, and Derek follows the King and Argent through the privy chamber to the bedroom doors.

"Your grace, it is safe to come out," Argent calls. "Sir Hale subdued the attacker."

"We want to hear his voice," Heather yells back. "Her royal highness wants to hear that Sir Hale is safe."

It's the loudest that Derek has ever heard her, despite the terrified waver in her voice. She's an asset to her grace's retinue.

"I'm here, your grace. I am safe, and your attacker is in custody. I swear it."

The sound of furniture being dragged across the floor is followed by the clang of the large bolt being slid open. Argent pushes gently at the door and it swings open to expose Heather and her iron poker standing in front of a sheet-white Dowager Queen. The moment she sees them, the poker clatters to the floor and Heather falls to her knees in thankful prayer.

Melissa rushes forward to embrace first her son, then Derek. She hugs him tightly, unconcerned for propriety or the state of her garments.

"You're safe," Derek whispers. "You're safe. He's going to talk, and Kate will be imprisoned, and you're safe."

Melissa leans back enough to look at him properly. She touches his cheek, awakening the pain he had thus far ignored.

"You're injured," she murmurs. "Because of me."

"I'm injured because I honor and respect you," Derek replies. "I'm injured to keep you safe, because I care for you."

"Oh, you dear, wonderful man." Melissa squeezes him again. "Thank you."

The king clears his throat, and Melissa steps back with a smile.

"Yes, sire?" She asks, a sarcastic edge to the title.

The king laughs, wrapping his arm around his mother's waist and pressing a kiss to her temple.

"We have much to do before we can truly celebrate, but... Derek? Thank you for protecting my mother."

Derek bows. "It is my honor, sire."

The king nods shortly, his coronet askew on his dark curls. He looks so much like his mother that Derek can't help but marvel.

(Not that anyone wants to see a scrap of King Rafael in the young King Scott.)

"Argent will handle this mess and arrest his sister, they'll get... Anna, right? Yes, Anna to the doctor, and you and Cyrus can get cleaned up. Consider yourself off duty for at least a fortnight. Do with that what you will."

Derek knows he won't be going anywhere anytime soon. They've caught the perpetrator, but he won't feel right leaving Melissa alone quite yet.

(It may never feel right to leave Melissa alone.)

Melissa grabs his wrist, avoiding the worst of the blood.

"Join me when you're ready," she murmurs. "If you're ready, I mean."

Derek nods, suddenly starkly aware of his sluggish wounds and the grime and blood coating his skin.

"I need to bathe," Derek says, staring at her small, delicate hand on his bloodied wrist. "Soon, before I give in to the urge to claw my skin off."

Heather perks up from her place in the doorway.

"I can have the gentlemen draw you a bath, Sir Hale, if you'd like. It will give me something to do besides pace."

"I'd love that."

Lady Tate comes bursting through the door, Lady Boyd and Lady Whittemore hot on her heels. Queen Allison is not far behind them, her own retinue fluttering after her. Malia falls to the floor at Melissa's feet, gripping the edge of her dress.

"We knew it had to be you," Malia says, voice choked on tears. "I didn't know... I didn't know, and it scared me so much."

"They didn't tell us what happened," Erica explains. "All the men just went running."

The dowager queen pulls Malia up into an embrace, quickly joined by Queen Allison and Erica.

"I'm right here, safe and sound. I swear it." Melissa kisses each of their cheeks. "My wonderful girls."

Heather tugs gently at Derek's arm. "I'm going to prepare the blue guest room on this wing."

Melissa looks up at him from among her ladies. "Go, bathe. Rest. Then come back here, to me."

"Yes, your grace."

…

Derek's face requires stitches, and his ribs are already mottled black and blue. It takes three tubs worth of water to finally get him clean, the servitors carting it back and forth until Heather is satisfied.

"Lady Boyd laid out nightclothes," Heather says, looking away as Derek dries off. "She retrieved them from your trunk while you were bathing."

"Thank you, Heather. I'll thank Lady Boyd when I see her next." Derek dresses quickly. "There, I'm decent."

Heather turns and clasps her hands together.

"Much better, despite your injuries." Heather pauses, goes quiet a moment. "Thank you for protecting us, Sir Hale, and for trusting me with her highness. It means a lot."

"You're more than welcome," Derek says. He bows gingerly, careful of his wounds. "You are a service to your lady, I promise."

If Derek has anything to say about it, Heather will be titled and trained in combat before Easter. She has the grit and the loyalty, low birth or not.

"I don't want to keep her waiting," Derek says, fidgeting with his cuffs. An idea strikes him. "If you wish to use the guest room for yourself, I'm sure I can talk Lady Tate into allowing it. You deserve the rest."

Heather blushes bright pink. "Oh, I could never--"

"You could." Derek bows once more. "Goodnight, Miss Everett."

"Goodnight, Derek." Heather curtseys, catching on quickly to the title swap.

Derek gathers himself, wraps his borrowed robe tightly, and heads into the hallway and back down to the Dowager Queen's chambers.

…

With the curtains closed around the bed, it's like the outside world doesn't exist anymore. Derek is sore, bone-tired, and about three blinks away from sleep. Melissa seems to understand, settling for soft kisses and running her fingers through his hair.

"I'm safe," she whispers. "I'm safe, because of you."

"Always," Derek whispers back. "I swear it." 

...

It's December, and court has been at Oak Hill Castle since right before advent began. It is officially the first day of Christmas, and some smartass decided that Derek would make a good Lord of Misrule. Malia is his lady, so at least he has a good partner for the insanity.

"I declare that tonight's ball be masked," Malia calls out, waving her drumstick scepter and straightening her paste board crown. "No one shall be seen bare-faced, lest they face the wrath of Hale, Count of Triskele, and Tate, Lady of Honor."

"Let it be done," Derek adds solemnly. "Let all who may enter do so without name or face, that the chaos may begin immediately."

Everyone already knew the first night would be a masked ball, but saying it aloud causes a murmur throughout the room. Derek looks across the long table from his and Malia's dais to that of the royal family, and Melissa's sparkling grin.

"For now, however... let us feast!"

Derek keeps catching Heather's eye where she sits with the ladies in waiting. He winks, and she grins back. True to his word, she's already titled and will begin training in January as soon as the festivities are over.

"Count Hale," Malia says dramatically. "What is your chosen masquerade for tonight, that I may recognize my Lord of Misrule?"

"I think I may go as a knight," Derek says with a laugh. "I've only been a count for a few months, so I haven't yet lost the mannerisms."

Malia snorts. "Oh please, we all know you're a knight before you're a count. It's a title, not a personality change."

"I'm still not used to being titled. That was always Laura's job, and I never…" Derek trails off when he locks eyes with Melissa, heat flaring despite thirty-some yards of table and courtiers between them. "Do I really have to go to the ball tonight?"

"Yes. It's non-negotiable." Malia smacks him with her scepter. "Everyone will be so drunk after a while that no one will notice if you leave early, though. I'll cover for you if someone does."

"I owe you one."

"Convince her grace to invite the Lady Yukimura to court this spring, and we'll consider it even," Malia says, smirking over the edge of her goblet. "We had such a lovely time together last summer."

Derek is very aware of how lovely, since poor Nicola had to move into another room to make room for their trysts.

"I think I can manage that," Derek says, smirking back. "It's a deal."

…

They're laughing as they come tumbling through the doors of the privy chamber, wrapped up in Derek's cloak and Melissa's skirts. The guards on duty merely close the doors behind them and take their place in front.

Derek doesn't even make it past the fireplace before Melissa has him pinned to the sofa, hands on his shoulders. She drags his mask off, tossing it aside so she can get to his mouth.

"You make a dashing wolf," Melissa murmurs between kisses. Her nimble fingers pluck at the fastenings of his cloak, letting it fall to either side of him. His waistcoat soon follows. "I prefer you like this, though." 

"I do too." Derek somehow undoes the straps securing Melissa's wings and sets them aside. "You're quite the fairy queen, but I like you better as _my_ queen."

"I'm always _yours_ , fairy or not."

Melissa runs her fingers through his hair as they kiss, balancing on his lap through sheer force of will. The many yards of fabric that make up her skirts take up more space than she does.

"I have too many layers on," she says finally, standing and holding out her hand. "Come, before I rip the damned things open myself out of irritation."

"The seamstresses would have my head," Derek teases. He follows her to the bedroom with a shiver, the large oaken door closing behind them with a solid thud.

"Go ahead and lock it, love." Melissa slides her dainty slippers off and tugs the golden net from her hair. Her mask goes flying, laying forlorn and forgotten on the rug. "I have roughly three times the clothing you have, so I'll get a head start."

Derek closes the door and pulls off his boots. He sets them at the end of the bed neatly, a habit she has yet to train out of him.

Between the two of them, they get Melissa out of the overskirt and bodice, then out of four separate petticoats and a crinoline. Derek steps behind her to work the stays open until the corset can be removed. The last thing to go are the stockings, filmy silk things that he has torn too many pairs of in the past. Finally, Melissa is down to nothing but her shift and some hairpins.

"Your turn. I won't be the only one in my small clothes, Count Hale." Melissa loosens the laces of his shirt and his trousers, poking and prodding at him until he removes all but his undergarments. "Better."

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him soundly. He can feel her breasts press up against him like this, his cock paying swift attention. Every time she kisses him is like the first.

"We should move to the bed," Derek suggests. "It will be more comfortable than out here in the open."

Melissa nods, but she doesn't release her hold on Derek's neck. He grasps her arse and hoists her into his arms, legs around his waist.

"Oh!" Melissa laughs, delighted. "You're so strong. Carry me to bed then, darling."

Derek does so, drawing back the bed curtains and laying her down gently. She retains her hold on him, so he ends up settling over her.

"Every night you sleep in my bed, I imagine holding you like this. Even on nights when we're too tired to do anything but sleep, or too stressed to relax properly. I always want to hold you," she explains softly. Melissa kisses him again. "Just like this, holding you close to my heart and to my core all at once. I still can't believe you're mine."

"I'm here," Derek promises. "And I'm not going anywhere, I swear it."

Melissa cards her fingers through his hair.

(He leaves it longer for a reason.)

"Tell me again."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, with you."

Melissa kisses him and lets go of his neck, sliding up the bed to give herself more room. She grasps the hem of her shift, and Derek holds his breath as she lifts the garment up and over her head.

She's soft and womanly, breasts the perfect handful to appreciate properly, womanhood obscured by hair as dark and wild as that on her head.

"You're beautiful," Derek says, and he means every word.

"I'm an old woman, Derek. There's no need to lie to me."

They've had this conversation a hundred times in six months, and Derek will keep having it until she sees herself as he does.

Derek kisses her collarbones, her chest, the soft skin of both breasts.

"You are not old. You have lived a full life so far, but you are not old." He kisses one of her nipples, and she shivers under him. "Forty years is but the blink of an eye for many women."

"You really desire a worn-out body like mine? I have born and lost children." Melissa's fingertips skate over her abdomen. "I bear the marks of motherhood."

Derek presses a kiss to each silvery stretch mark. "I desire you, Melissa. How can I prove it further when I am already mostly naked in your bed for the hundredth time or more?"

"Remove your underwear," Melissa suggests. "That would help."

Derek does so. Now, they're both naked in the candlelight. Melissa sits up and gestures for him to lie down in her place.

"You're so beautiful," she whispers, running her hands over his chest and abdomen. The edge of a fingernail catches on one of his more recent scars, pulling a startled hiss from his throat. "Shh, I'm sorry. I'll be more careful."

"I'm a mess," Derek mumbles. "You're sure you want me?"

"I swear it."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://reactingcaptain.tumblr.com).


End file.
